Everything is always getting better. Always. There is always something better right around the corner and if there's not, go make it for yourself. Go find it for yourself. You might have to hunt it down like an animal to it's lair, skin the bastard, stuff it and hang it on your wall, but for Godssakes it's there! Sorry, that might be a brutal analogy for the pleasant point I'm trying to make... But you know what I mean.
I was on a train to Paris once. Quite a defining moment. I locked myself in the bathroom cubicle of the Eurostar, curled up in the foetal position in my fur coat and just rocked myself back and forth while I cried so hard I puked into the toilet. I tried to call my mum, my bestfriend, my sister, but the reception wasn't good and anytime I got through (on a shitty connection and in my state) no one understood a thing anyway. I remember thinking I don't want this anymore. I don't know what I'm looking for, before finally just saying out loud "I just want my happy ending now please, I'm tired". I was tired. At 22, I was tired. And I was sick of trying just so hard. All the time.
So I cleaned myself up. Got into Paris. Bought a freakin' croissant and a coffee, did my job and the next day I went back to London.
...Where I booked an airline ticket, told my agency I was leaving for a little while, packed a bag and in less than 24hours I was in New York. My ex offered me a spare room in his apartment to stay for a few days. Which turned into a few weeks because a point was reached that quickly in that weekend space of days filled with giggles and tea and bubble baths and breakfast in bed and sex on the hour that I stayed longer... partied too, ate with friends in my favourite diners, shopped for lingerie in Barney's, made trips with the boy to YSL (My favourite) and Dior (His favourite), wandered around on my own, stared at the new snow out the window... It was a blur of beauty and fun and safety and satisfaction and though there's since been a lot of shit in between- A lot of hard, lonely, complicated shit that a lot of people would have no idea about- I'm now here.
I'm HERE.
Here is Love. Happiness. LIFE. I have an awe-inspiringly gorgeous daughter with that man, a beautiful man who really loves me and is such a good human being beneath it all. I have the best- smartest, sarcastic, sassy and most loyal- friends a girl could ask for. I have an incredible family, who have been through a LOT this year and whom I've been so happy I could be here for and more who I am grateful for being here for me. I am fit, healthy, strong, happy and I like myself. It feels good to be here. It feels good to be me. Maybe all the shit was necessary. Maybe it was just a hole I dug myself and had to pull myself out of. Maybe it was fate or karma or penance for my sins, but none of it matters now because I chose better.
And this is it.
I was on a train to Paris once. Quite a defining moment. I locked myself in the bathroom cubicle of the Eurostar, curled up in the foetal position in my fur coat and just rocked myself back and forth while I cried so hard I puked into the toilet. I tried to call my mum, my bestfriend, my sister, but the reception wasn't good and anytime I got through (on a shitty connection and in my state) no one understood a thing anyway. I remember thinking I don't want this anymore. I don't know what I'm looking for, before finally just saying out loud "I just want my happy ending now please, I'm tired". I was tired. At 22, I was tired. And I was sick of trying just so hard. All the time.
So I cleaned myself up. Got into Paris. Bought a freakin' croissant and a coffee, did my job and the next day I went back to London.
...Where I booked an airline ticket, told my agency I was leaving for a little while, packed a bag and in less than 24hours I was in New York. My ex offered me a spare room in his apartment to stay for a few days. Which turned into a few weeks because a point was reached that quickly in that weekend space of days filled with giggles and tea and bubble baths and breakfast in bed and sex on the hour that I stayed longer... partied too, ate with friends in my favourite diners, shopped for lingerie in Barney's, made trips with the boy to YSL (My favourite) and Dior (His favourite), wandered around on my own, stared at the new snow out the window... It was a blur of beauty and fun and safety and satisfaction and though there's since been a lot of shit in between- A lot of hard, lonely, complicated shit that a lot of people would have no idea about- I'm now here.
I'm HERE.
Here is Love. Happiness. LIFE. I have an awe-inspiringly gorgeous daughter with that man, a beautiful man who really loves me and is such a good human being beneath it all. I have the best- smartest, sarcastic, sassy and most loyal- friends a girl could ask for. I have an incredible family, who have been through a LOT this year and whom I've been so happy I could be here for and more who I am grateful for being here for me. I am fit, healthy, strong, happy and I like myself. It feels good to be here. It feels good to be me. Maybe all the shit was necessary. Maybe it was just a hole I dug myself and had to pull myself out of. Maybe it was fate or karma or penance for my sins, but none of it matters now because I chose better.
And this is it.
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